notes from the desert – from the paper journal
11pm, April 2009.
The wind is still blowing and the moon is full. I made my bed in my trailer while Charlie played three simple chords on the piano. Last night he was playing these same notes, and it sounded like such a lonely little song, singing self-awareness into the universe. I stood behind the screen door and this time felt compelled to sing. So I added my voice, slow gentle tones, ninths and thirds. Charlie turned away from me at the piano, me with my face pressed up against the screen, not wanting to open the door lest I break the spell.
But I did. Slowly, I grabbed a fleece blanket and wrapped it around me, still singing. I opened the door as gently as I could, so not to make a sound, and I as I opened it I thought of my throat and chest expanding like in a silent breath. I opened the door, and listened to a few notes, now peeking around the corner. But before I could sing, the song was over.
